A Twisted Kiss
by letthedreambeginphan
Summary: Christine finds Erik tormented in his dreams and does her best to comfort him. Mature content.
1. Chapter 1

Darkness was all that greeted her eyes when they fluttered open, roused from their heavy slumber.

A cry in the darkness, low and muffled by the walls of her bedchamber but a cry nonetheless.

She wondered if someone had gotten hurt while climbing about in the rigging but then she remembered where she was.

Erik.

It had to be Erik's cry, no one else could have been heard from down in the blackness of Erik's lair.

She rose quickly from the bed, wrapping herself in a light dressing gown and that was thrown over the footboard.

Even though he was effectively her captor, she worried about him. He had been the one to bring her out of the depths of despair after her father's death, he had nurtured her voice and her soul until she was ready to replace La Carlotta as the leading soprano in the Opera Populaire.

The cold metallic door handle felt frozen in her hand, her heart was fluttering in panic. Had he been hurt? Had Raoul discovered their hiding place and gotten rid of the Opera Ghost, once and for all?

She shook the thought from her head, Erik's lair was too well hidden to be easily found by the Vicomte and his men, not to mention the wave after wave of booby traps that were set all along the dark, labyrinthine corridors.

She had no time to worry about Raoul. She loved him, yes, but it was no with the same burning passion that tore through her heart when she thought of Erik.

Erik was her angel, whose dark wings surrounded her, protecting her from the outside world. That is what she needed. Even if it meant that she had to remain here with him.

She rushed through the short hallway, towards Erik's room. He had insisted that they remain in separate rooms in order to maintain her dignity.

A hesitant knock on the door, if he was awake then he'd take it as a warning to cover his face. She was not bothered by the sight of his contorted deformity but he behaved differently when it was bare, vulnerable and cautious.

No reply.

She opened the door and stepped inside, the room was dark apart from a slither of moon light that shone through a domed window in the ceiling. Christine had no idea where the window led to above ground.

There he was, lying face down on the bed. He was shirtless and she watched for a moment as his strong shoulders heaved up and down, arousal flooding into her inner core. But then she realised that he was sobbing.

"Erik." She whispered and rushed to her side, dropping to her knees by his bedside.

His body was shuddering with cries of despair, she knew from his unresponsiveness that he was still sleeping, haunted by memories of a life long ago.

She reached out, stroking his wispy grey hair, a result of his deformity. She did not know how old he was precisely but she knew it was a good deal older than herself, at the tender age of eighteen.

"My angel." Her heart thrummed, bleeding for him and she tried to gently pull him from his nightmares.

Christine knew exactly what could settle him. She began to hum, quietly at first but then building in volume.

It was an aria from the opera he had written for her.

After a few minutes his sobs died down, his breathing rate returning to normal.

She did not stop humming until she had reached the end of the aria and then she stood and turned to go.

"Christine, wait." He had woken in the last few lines, immediately aware of what had happened.

Her back turned to him she briefly closed her eyes, hoping that he would not be angry with her for entering his room uninvited.

His face was turned towards her, the deformed side down against the pillow. His expression was calm and she breathed a sigh of relief.

She quickly moved back to his side, this time sitting on the edge of the bed and gently covering his hand with her delicate, ivory coloured one.

"Angel?" Her eyes searched the one visible eye, looking for any sign of anger but she did not find it.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that. I am often haunted by the ghosts of so many years ago."

She was almost over him now and yet he did not turn his face to look at her, he remained staring at the wall.

"I'm sorry you had to feel that." Her words echoed his, a token of remembrance of so many singing lessons passed. "Erik...look at me." Her hand reached out, gently stroking his exposed jaw and then encouraging it to turn towards her.

He complied, happy to feel her touch after such a traumatic nightmare.

"Oh, my love." He smiled sadly. "What kind of life have I chained you to."

She moved on the bed, pulling herself closer to him.

"No, Erik. No." Her soft curls bounced and she shook her head.

"I'm afraid that I've taken the world's most beautiful songbird and clipped her wings."

She could say nothing, only lean down and place her lips over his. He moaned softly, shifting into a better position.

Her lips were smaller than his, every part of her was petite and fragile which is why she felt the need to be protected.

Her bottom lip caressed his, taking in the slight twist of the corner of his mouth where it was pulled up by his marred beauty.

His tongue reached up, slid over the opening of her lips and begged to be allowed access. She granted it and he enjoyed the warmth of her mouth, tasting her hot tongue that eagerly welcomed his presence. Her leg moved, straddling him and the ever growing bulge that was building his trousers.

A role of her hips, encouraging, coaxing and begging.

Quickly, she found herself being flipped onto her back, Erik was not one to stay under someone else's control for long.

He dug his hips into hers, closing the gap between them and causing her back to arch as his still-clothed erection rubbed against the sensitive parts of her body.

"Erik!" She gasped pushing her needy hips up towards him.

"Patience, my dear." He snarled as his lips made contact with her delicate, porcelain throat.

Desire leapt and bounded through her body, centring on her breasts which swelled and tightened beneath her flimsy bedclothes and the apex of her legs.

Her hips bucked upwards again.

"Oh, Christine...this cannot do. You must know by now that patience is a virtue." His voice was a complete juxtaposition from the uncontrollable and panicked cries he was wracked with not twenty minutes before.

He knew that a calm, collected tone drove her crazy as she knew very well that begging for his touch made him hunger for him more than ever. She was the first woman that had ever wanted him, truly wanted him and had not been some prostitute that his brother had paid to embrace him.

Even those well-paid whores had screamed and ran at the sight of his gruesome face.

But now he had Christine and she loved him, she truly loved him.

_"Mademoiselle Daae is only infatuated with this 'angel' because she still grieves for her father."_ Erik had overheard Phillipe, Comte de Chagny trying to comfort his younger brother outside the door to their private box.

_"She will soon come to her senses and realise that the only man she needs is you." _

How wrong he was, Erik sneered to himself. The knowledge that she had wilfully chosen him sent a surge to his cock, causing it to twitch and elicit another moan from his gorgeous companion.

He looked down at her, soaking in the tremendously beautiful sight. Her hair was loose and had splayed itself across the pillow, her skin had a blueish glow from the thin moonlight and her breasts...her breasts.

His breathing almost stopped as he watched them bounce in front of him, hardened nipples jutting towards him, aching for his touch.

Before he could stop himself he bent his head down, lavishing one of them with a flick of his tongue.

Her pointed breasts were so sensitive that his hot tongue caused lust to pool in her stomach, regardless of the nightdress she was still wearing. The material was rough against his tongue, the new added sensation sent even more blood coursing to his already enraged cock.

"Mon Dieu!" She managed to squeak and he chuckled.

"Christine, you know that you can call me Erik." His eyes glinted and shone as he looked up to her blushing face.

"Erik. Erik, please."

"Seeing that you have asked so nicely, my love." He moved away from her momentarily, slipping his hand into the hot space between their bodies.

The rub of his hand on his erection made him moan, instinctively pushing his hips towards Christine.

Eventually, he managed to undo his buttons with one hand while steadying himself with the other. The release of the pressure from the material prison made him hitch his breath, a small drop of moisture forming at his head.

The hem of her nightgown was quickly pushed up, revealing her to him.

One quick slide of his fingers and he was assured that she was as ready and eager as he was.

His name was fluttering from her lips, partly as a prayer and partly as a curse.

"My sweet Christine." He moaned before gently touching his lips to hers, pulling himself slightly up the bed and ever so gently entering her.

Her intake of breath caused her body to expand beneath him, breasts lifting and falling as he slowly pulled his hips away and pushed them back towards her again.

Her moans against his lips were as intoxicating as the scent of her perfumed hair.

She loved the feelings he gave her when he was making love to her. Protection and adoration were at the forefront of those.

Every night she sang on stage the audience would always climb to their feet and clap for a significant duration of time but none of it equalled the way she felt when she was alone with her angel.

She strained her neck to look over his broad shoulder and watched his backside moving up and down in the moonlight. The sight forced her to groan again, fully aware that with each downward motion he was driving himself deeper into her.

His pace was begin to build, the throbbing heat of his cock was driving her to the point of madness. It pulsed, grew even more and rubbed against her inner most sensitive points.

The thrusts gained momentum and she tightened around him, causing him to ache for release. There was no going back now.

He lost control, the tempo was set at a blinding speed and she felt her whole body shake and shudder as the orgasm crashed into her body, her heart skipped a beat and her hips thrust down towards him in the hope of squeezing every last morsel of pleasure out of this liaison.

He came quickly after that, the fluttering of her inner muscles causing him to spasm and release into her with an inhuman groan that made lust fill her body again.

His supporting arm collapsed and he fell on top of her. She was glad of the contact of his hot chest, lightly dusted with curls of black hair.

They remained there, panting and sighing until finally he rolled off of her and onto his side.

"Thank you, Christine."

"For what?"

"For soothing me when I was having a nightmare and saving me when I was living one."


	2. Chapter 2

Christine forked aimlessly at the plate in front of her.

She had found herself eating alone again at the long dining room table. Erik had retired sometime after breakfast to work on his opera.

"This will be my greatest triumph since winning your heart, Christine." He had playfully smiled as he excused himself from the table.

She had sat in the cramped parlour since then, occasionally attempting to read a book or draw but she found nothing as interesting and consuming as his company.

When Christine had first arrived in his lair, Erik made it clear that any interruption while he was composing in his music room was unwelcome and would send him spiralling into a black mood for days.

Her mind had managed to stay moderately occupied with thoughts of the night before, of how he had sobbed and whimpered until he was calmed by her voice. Of course, she also thought of the way he had held her and tiny birds were sent scattering in her stomach as lust pulsed down to her centre.

Years spent working in the corps de ballet meant that Christine had very little time to learn how to cook and the meal set in front of her was...interesting to say the least.

She had left Erik a plate of whatever this was on the stove, in the hope that hunger would drive him from his seclusion at some point but her plan had not worked so far.

Christine forced down a couple more mouthfuls and then stood, picking up her plate and empty wine glass she walked towards the great door but had to throw herself out of its way as it swung open.

There he stood, eyes blazing with a stack of sheet music tightly gripped in his hand.

She knew that look well.

"I need you to sing this." He announced shortly, thrusting the music towards her already occupied hands.

"Now? But I have not warmed up."

"No matter. As long as you do not push yourself too far."

Her eyes narrowed...it was not like her angel to undermine the importance of vocal warm ups.

"Christine." He said sharply, pulling her from her reverie.

She turned from him to place the plate on the table before delicately taking the music from him.

"Of course, angel." She smiled slightly at the music in her hands. His mood reminded her of the first time she had torn the mask off of his face only this time she could see that lust was thronging through his veins.

"Good. Now, your character in this scene is being tricked by Don Juan in order to get her into his bedchamber. She is unaware of this and believes that she is courting his servant, Passarino, who is infinitely more handsome."

She felt a small pebble drop into her stomach as she saw how his creation resonated with their own story.

"Of course, this is only the first run through but if you could put as much emotion into it as possible then I'd be very appreciative." She thought that she saw a knowing look coming from his eyes but she blinked it away and began to read the music in front of her.

The music was deep and dark, flooded with passion and frustration of the most intimate kind.

She began to panic. Would she fulfil his expectations? Would her voice serve his music well or would it fail her now?

Miraculously, her anxiety began to wash away as he opened his mouth and uttered the first few lines of the song. His voice was a perfect as ever and she began to drift.

Before she knew it they were open her cue and she took in a trembling breath and then released a wobbling note. She searched his face for disappointment but found on encouragement there so she continued, pushing herself slightly harder she found her notes begin to lift and soar.

Together, they sang beautifully and as they worked into the music their bodies seemed to obey, following the erotic lyrics with gentle, teasing caresses.

Christine found herself sitting on a chair that he had spun around to face away from the table. Erik was positioned behind her with his hands holding her through the gaps in the ornate chair's arms.

When the song was done they both remained in their positions, panting slightly from the exertion of singing such intricate music.

"Th-thank you." He stood to leave but she found herself drawing up to face him before he had moved from the table.

"Don't leave me." She whispered as her eyes gazed into his chest.

"Oh, my dear little Christine. I am only in the next room." He smiled warmly, clearly pleased with her performance.

"But that is not the same as being with you." She ran a hand across his lapel and noticed how his eyes flicked briefly to her chest as her breasts lifted with her actions.

He was nothing but a man.

"I...my music."

"Can it not wait? I promise that I will leave you for all the time necessary after...this."

"And what is...this?" He couldn't help but push his hips forwards towards her and he felt himself grow harder at the contact with her body.

She didn't reply, instead she lifted her hand and gently brushed it over the front of his trousers. He was left in no doubt what "this" was.

"Christine." He hissed, involuntarily pushing his hips towards her hand which was quickly drawn away.

"Don't tease me." His voice was tinged with warning but she chose to ignore it.

"You should be getting back to your music." She picked up her plate and pointed her towards the door but Erik reached out grabbing her wrist.

The plate tipped and fell onto the front of his suit jacket with a self-satisfied slop.

"Oh! Erik I am so sorry!" She held her breath, waiting for him to explode in rage. Every suit he owned had come from the costume stores of the Opera Populaire and she had no idea what lengths he had to go to in order to acquire them.

She waited and waited but there was no cry of rage, no shout of disgust or anger. Instead a warm chuckle started to rise from his chest, quiet at first but it slowly began to build in volume until he was practically roaring with laughter.

"My dear," he finally managed to wheeze while wiping a joyful tear from underneath his "normal" eye. "I have not laughed like that in a very long time."

After the aftershock titters had died down he stood there, staring at her.

"Angel?"

"I need to get out of these clothes, Christine."

"I...of course!" She moved so that he could walk past but he remained exactly where he was.

"I may need your help." He had to concentrate on keeping the corners of his mouth from twitching up.

Without saying a word, Christine began to undo his jacket. It was painfully slow progress and he began to swell at the prospect of delights to come.

As soon as his buttons were undone, he shrugged the jacket off and onto the floor below. Christine's heart trembled at the sight of his muscles, visible through his shirt sleeves.

He must have noticed the lust filling her eyes because he gently bent his head down, brushing his own lips against hers.

She braced her self against his chest, kneading the hard muscle of his chest with one hand while they other reached up to stroke his face.

Today his shudder was from pleasure whereas before it had been from shame and pain that had been engrained into him from a young age. Christine had taught him that it was his soul that needed to be changed, not his face.

He had been trying. For her.

"_My darling," _he thought to himself as her tongue gently caressed his. "_Without you my life would be the empty pit of despair that it once was."_

Her spine tingled as his hand ran under her hair and stroked at the bare patch of skin just above the beginning of her dress.

Her mind was roaming too, freed in the safety of his embrace. She thought of the first time he had touched her. A simple touch that involved his leather encased fingers wrapping around her wrist while he pulled her through the sliding mirror in her dressing room. Had it been someone else, she wouldn't have thought anything of it. But, it was him. It was hard evidence that her angel of music existed and that he was as real as any of the admirers that had come to visit her dressing room on the night of her début.

Now her Angel was here. In front of her, holding her against his chest as she felt his cock throb and pulse between them. He was definitely nothing but a man.

Her hand followed it's own will and ran quickly from his face to his bulge, rubbing it softly as their lips remained locked in position.

The pulse of arousal ran from his groin, up through his body, passing over their lips before delving into Christine. She whimpered.

He pulled his mouth away, breath huffing. His face fell into one of bliss as she continued to rub him through his trousers.

"Christine. Christine, please." He finally managed to sigh.

She had been with Erik enough times to know exactly what he wanted at this point. She was more than willing to comply.

The hand on his bulge stopped. He groaned with the loss but she quickly pulled up her skirts in order to make it easier to kneel before her angel.

As he passed his hands which were hanging by his side, she noticed them twitch. He was fighting the urge to place his hand on the back of her head. She smiled and took his hand, placing it gently on her soft brunette curls.

He groaned, hips twitching before her. She reached up and unbuttoned his trousers and allowed his strong length to burst free from its material confines.

Erik sucked in a lungful of air as she took him in her hand, hot flesh almost searing her palm as it twitched and grew even larger than before.

Christine's centre hummed with delight. She loved having him under her control, his whole world in her hand.

Her ears picked up on a string of curse words as she placed a loving kiss on his darkening head. Oh, God! How could he contain himself for much longer?

She sucked the tip of his throbbing cock into her mouth, much to his delight and his hand gripped her hair, producing a small amount of pain that mixed with the pleasure singing through her veins.

Christine loved the way her angel tasted on her tongue, his sweet pleasure tinged with salt.

After lavishing his sensitive head with her tongue, making sure that the slit in the end of it received extra attention, she sucked him in as far as she could go. His cock was long and thick so Christine was unable to fit it all into her mouth without choking herself. The extra length was covered with her hands and using them she brought him almost to the point of oblivion.

"Ch-Christine." He brought himself to blurt out before gently placing his hand under her chin and pulling his hips away.

She looked up to him, a nervous expression on her face. Was he displeased?

"I'm afraid I might not last much longer if you continue."

"That was my design, Erik." She smiled coyly.

"Well I have a few other ideas." He added, offering a hand and pulling her to her feet.

"Do share." She lightly brushed the dust from her gown, acting innocent.

He quickly switched their positions, spinning her round and pushing her against the table.

"I see." She tried to maintain the act but was quickly reaching up for him, pulling his lips down on her own and sighing as she felt his erection push against the folds of her gown.

"This has to go." He grunted, producing a knife from seemingly nowhere.

Christine had no urge to pull away from him. She knew that her angel would never willingly hurt her again.

The knife cut a section of her dress before he threw it to one side, deciding that the job would be better done with his own to hands.

He tore it clean away, leaving her in standing in her undergarments and corset.

His mouth was immediately on the exposed flesh of her breasts, he kissed and nipped at the skin until she threw her head back and succumb to him.

He gently pulled her up by her thighs and pushed her back onto the table, standing in between her legs as his hands fumbled to rid her of her underwear.

She grew impatient and reached down to help but he slapped her hands away.

"Erik, I need you."

The added encouragement spurred him on and when they were finally gone she gasped as the cold, polished wood greeted her backside.

He mouthed at her throat, driving spikes of desire down into her trembling body. Christine knew Erik was biding his time, allowing the moment to build until it was almost unbearable before he supplied a crescendo of sensations.

His hot breath moved along her collar bone, leaving a rapidly cooling trail of moisture. She was aching for him and he knew it and intended to let her for as long as possible.

"Angel!" She exclaimed, coming dangerously close to an order.

His hand slid up her thigh, searching for the warmth he longed for.

"Oh, Christine." He murmured as his fingers found her sweet spot, causing her hips to thrust manically.

He pulled his fingers away and wrapped his hand around his throbbing cock and began to guide it towards her. He teased her with his head before pushing himself inside.

She was filled completely by him and began to moan words in her native tongue. Erik had some knowledge of the language but could not pick up on what she was saying in her muffled tones.

Christine was overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside her, his hips moving in hypnotic rhythms that threatened to make her fall apart at any moment.

Erik made sure that he angled his body in a way that stimulated all over her. Something she had never experienced in the hands of the young Vicomte. The thought of that _boy_ made him surge into a possessive snap of his hips and Christine cried out, gasping for air.

She was clutching at his shirt, trying to maintain a grip on reality before he drove her reeling into bliss.

"Please, Erik." She begged for him to speed up, to let her release but he smiled and shook his head as he maintained his slow pace.

She almost screamed when he slid out of her completely, leaving her empty and half satisfied but before she could stir her voice he pushed into her again. This time was rougher and he slammed his hips into her. She screamed and rolled her eyes towards the heavens.

Pleased with the effect it had on her, Erik did it again, and again and kept doing it before he knew that neither of them could take any more.

In one last thrust he pushed himself as far in as possible, grinding his hips against hers and staring directly into her eyes as he came.

Christine's eyes fluttered, her mouth dropped open as the orgasm burst through her like the explosive special effects that had been newly introduced to the stage.

Erik had a hard time deciding whether he preferred her singing voice or the sound she made when she shuddered through her pleasure. He smiled smugly when he realised that both were of his making.

"Now," he spoke first once they had parted and made some attempt to pull themselves together. "I suspect that we could both do with a little sustenance?"

He must have noticed her expression change at the thought of cooking because he swiftly informed her that it would be his pleasure to cook for the two of them on this occasion.


	3. Chapter 3

Christine laughed as lifted her gently from the table.

They immersed themselves in a conversation about his new masterpiece as they walked down the length of his oversized dining room.

"Are you sure that I should take on the role?" She asked him.

"Christine," they both paused in front of the door. "I wrote this role for you. I will not be satisfied until you bring it to life for me."

"If I show my face above ground then Raoul..." She saw Erik's face twitch with disdain. "The Vicomte and his brother will never let me out of their sight again."

Erik took a large step towards her, placing his hand firmly onto her shoulder.

"You belong to me." His tone was harshly possessive and she felt a shiver run down her back.

"I know. I know. Trust me, I never want to belong to anyone else ever again. I love you, Erik."

She felt as though he was about to lean in for a kiss but his head twitched towards the door. His keen sense of hearing had heard something that had gone unnoticed by her own.

"I'm sure it's just..."

"Sh."

He moved silently towards the door, placing his hand on the handle he turned to her and signalled for her to remain where she was. He then quickly turned the handle, slipped out and pulled the door shut behind him.

Christine lurched into a frenzied panic. The last time there was someone other than Erik and herself in the little underground home, it was the night Raoul had tried to save her from a life of misery and darkness. He didn't understand how wrong he was, how living with Erik had been the happiest time of her life and how she would gladly never return to her life before.

That was now, of course, back then she had been terrified of Erik. She had seen him brutally murder two innocent men at the Opera Populaire and she had blamed herself for their deaths. If only she had obeyed the angel sooner then perhaps they would both still be alive.

No, _no. _Christine shook those thoughts from her head. She was happy with Erik now and he had sworn that he would never kill again.

Christine strained her ears, listening for any sign of struggle outside but she heard nothing. She sank into one of the chairs and waited for him to come back to her.

* * *

Erik peered into the dark sitting room, thankful that years of living in darkness had trained his eyes to see in poor light.

He saw the figure perched on the sofa and his heart lurched, adrenaline surging into his blood. He took a step forward but paused, instantly recognising the intruder.

"Madame Giry, I hope you realise that it is considered rude in polite society to enter someone's home when you are not invited."

"You are not one to preach about what is wrong or right in polite society, Erik." She stood to greet him but sensing that the air was thick with an unwelcoming energy she sat back down again, neatly folding her hands in her lap.

"What do you want?" Erik snapped, firmly placing his feet in front of the dining room door.

"Where is she? Where is Christine?"

Erik's lips curled up in a cruel smile and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"She is well."

"That is not what I asked."

"Do please inform me as to why I should answer your questions. If my memory serves me correctly, it was you that led that _boy _and his band of merry men to my door. They could have killed me...perhaps that is what you wanted."

"No!" She exclaimed, leaning forward in her chair. "How could you think such a thing? Have I not taken care of you since you first arrived at the opera house? You were nothing but a boy back then and now look at you."

"Yes. Just look at me. Man or monster?" He took a step towards her and she moved back. A reflex that had grown from so many years of dealing with his outrageous temper. "I understand why you did it. You thought you were doing the best for her. I am not - after all - the only young ward you took under your wing."

"Erik..."

"She is happy with me. It is possible, believe it or not."

"May I see her?"

"I'm afraid Mademoiselle Daae is not in a state that is suitable for receiving guests."

"Please." Madame Giry was not one to beg so it threw Erik off guard. He moved quickly to the sofa, grabbed the blanket that sat there, neatly folded and then returned to the dining room doorway.

"Wait here." He murmured before disappearing.

* * *

Christine was terrified. She had gotten up and paced the room before returning to her chair at least three times since Erik had left. The lump in her throat threatened to cut off her air supply at any moment and she had used a strip of material from her tattered dress to dab the tears away from her eyes.

Her mind hurtled through a million different scenarios about would could be happening on the other side of the door and most of them ended with a gruesome end for her beloved Erik.

Something had to be wrong. If he hadn't found anything then he would have returned to her. Unless...

Anger began to seep into her soul. How dare he pretend to hear something so he could sneak away, back to his music? She had worried for him when in reality he was probably sitting at his organ, engrossed with how he could make his piece absolutely perfect.

She rose from her chair, fury carrying her quickly towards the door but found that it was also coming towards her. It opened and Erik stepped through with a blanket over one arm and a grim expression plaguing his face.

"Quickly." He indicated to the blanket. "Cover yourself with this."

"Erik? What's wrong?" Her eyes flicked from one of his to the other, from masked to unmasked, looking for some hint of what had happened.

"My dear, we have a guest." His words echoed those of _that _night and her anger ebbed into paralysing fear. So it was Raoul.

Erik tried to get her to move but she remained motionless as if she had turned into one of the golden angels that decorated the Opera Populaire.

"Christine." He tried to call to her, sooth her as he sensed what she was thinking but still she did not move. He unfolded the blanket and gently threw it over her shoulders, drawing it over her chest before moving her hands and forcing her to grip the edges.

"There is no need to worry." He placed each of his long, thin hands either side of her delicate jaw bone and smiled.

His smile pulled her from her horrifying daydream and her skin began to tingle where his warm, rough hands made contact with it.

"Come." He took her hand and led her into the living room.

In their absence, Madame Giry had taken it upon herself to light some candles to try and create a friendlier situation.

When Christine saw her she almost walked straight back into the dining room, drawing the blanket tightly around her.

Giry rose and walked quickly over to her, offering her both of her knobbly hands as a greeting but Christine simply stared at them.

"Christine...why are you dressed in such a way, child?"

"I-I was just in my room...dressing for dinner." Christine lied and felt Erik's hot breath puff into her neck as he silently laughed behind her.

Madame Giry had been to Erik's home many times and was fully aware that the door behind Christine was one that led to the dining room and not to any bedrooms but she accepted Christine's excuse for the sake of propriety.

"I hope you will both forgive me for the intrusion," her gaze flicked from Christine's face to Erik's which was still set like stone. "I was distraught with worry about what had happened to the two of you."

Erik let out an audible tut at the idea of her worrying about him as well as Christine.

"Can I get you some tea?" Christine was desperate to leave the situation and find herself something more suitable to wear.

"Please, allow me." Erik left towards the kitchen before Christine could protest.

She turned back to Madame Giry who was fiddling, awkward with the cuffs of her own dress. How different their relationship was now to when Christine was a simple ballet girl.

"Madame..." Christine started but was quickly stopped when Giry grabbed her roughly by her wrists, causing the blanket to slide dangerously over her shoulders but fortunately, it remained.

"Listen to me," Giry's eyes scorched into her own. "You must leave this place. You must, Christine. If you do not escape now then there will be no chance for you. Raoul cannot risk coming back down here to rescue you again. You must try to leave of your own accord." Her words were hurried and she had obviously planned what she was going to say if she had a moment alone with Christine.

"I-"

"Here." Madame Giry pulled an envelope from beneath her dress and thrust it towards Christine. On closer inspection she saw that the wax seal was stamped with the de Chagny family crest.

Christine could not believe her eyes when she flipped it over and saw her own name scrawled in Raoul's lazy, looped handwriting.

"I can't." Christine tried to push the letter away, back towards Madame Giry but she took a step back.

"You must, Christine. You must."

"I hope you two have enough time to catch up with the latest gossip." Erik's voice made Christine's heart stop in her chest.

However, when she looked to him and saw him carrying a tea tray that was loaded with delicate china cups and saucers she felt her heart twist back into life. She knew her place was here with him. Didn't she?

"I must go." Madame Giry looked to him apologetically.

"Oh, but you have only just got here!" He covered his relief with a thin façade of disappointment.

"I'm afraid rehearsals call." She smiled sadly at Christine and then made her goodbyes before turning to leave.

"Madame Giry!" Erik called after her. "If I receive any more unexpected visits from_ you know who _then I will know exactly who to blame and my rage will not be so easily abated as last time."

Christine hated the warning tone etched in Erik's tone but it was designed to serve a job. Keeping them away...keeping _him _away. Her hand brushed quickly over the envelope concealed under the blanket. She would read it later while she was alone in bed.

* * *

The wax seal snapped with a satisfying crack. The noise of the page unfolding felt fifty times as loud as it was to Christine. She was laying in her bed, reading by the light of a single candle.

If Erik found her reading a letter from her former lover then there was no knowing what he would do. She slowly shifted into her pillows and began to read.

_"Little Lotte,_

_It feels like years since I saw you last and yet there is not a day that goes by when I do not worry about your welfare. _

_I feel awful for leaving you in that situation. For allowing that monster to get what he wanted but I saw no other way out of it. You did so well, my Christine, I believe he truly thinks that you are in love with him and this must remain so until I can find a way to save you. You are safe at the moment, as long as he thinks that you love him. _

_I know it is a sensitive matter but I promise you that I will understand if you have given yourself to him. Of course, I wish that you could have remained mine in body and soul but if you have allowed him access to one of those two things then I am reassured that the other belongs to me. _

_Believe me when I say that I am trying my utmost to save you. Everyday I speak with my brother and beg him to send more men down into those forgotten cellars to search for you but he says that no men are willing to go after we lost so many last time. _

_Christine, my darling Christine. I will have you with me again._

_With all of my undying love, Raoul._

Christine closer her eyes and felt the tears roll down her cheeks. Poor Raoul. He had no idea that her feelings for Erik were real and that she had no wish to return to him or to the world above and yet something about his letter struck a chord with her. His refusal to give up on her and the promises he made lifted her heart. Perhaps she was wrong to write him off entirely...

A floorboard squeaked outside her bedroom door.

She hurriedly hid the letter under her pillow and wiped the tears from her eyes.

A knock.

"Come in." She called, trying to disguise the sad wobble in her voice.

"I saw the light from under the door...I was just on my way to bed." He walked nervously into her view, still dressed in his shirt and trousers although the bow tie had gone now and a few of his top buttons were undone.

She sat up slightly, pushing at the pillow next to her with her elbow and making sure that the letter was completely covered.

"I was just...thinking."

"And it's necessary to have the candle lit to do so?" He asked with a teasing smile.

"Sorry."

He moved further into the room, awkwardly shuffling his weight from one foot to the other.

"No need to apologise...are you comfortable do you need more pillows?"

"No, thank you."

Erik bowed briefly before making a move towards the door.

"Erik! I was wondering...would you like to stay with me?"

"Christine?"

"Just...never mind."

"Of course I will." He smiled.

He wanted to hold her, truth be told that was the whole reason he had come into her room.

Christine shifted herself to make room for Erik. She watched as he removed his shoes and paused at his trousers.

He glanced up at her, saw her watching and smiled as he slowly undid the buttons. She stifled a groan when she saw his bulge, perfectly outlined by the low light.

He slid into the bed next to her, causing it to move and squeak slightly as he settled.

Christine sighed as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer to his chest.

"Earlier...I thought something awful was happening to you. It terrified me."

"Oh, Christine." He pulled her closer still and her warmth started to filter lust down to his core.

Christine felt him the beginning of his arousal against her thigh. She felt so guilty about having heard from Raoul that she felt as though she should tell him.

"M-Madame Giry gave me..."

Before she could finish the sentence, Erik's lips had closed around her own and she remained silent. She enjoyed the warmth of his lips and the sensation of his curious tongue rolling against he bottom lip.

All thoughts of Madame Giry and Raoul flew from her mind as their mouths fused together. Erik possessed her, body and soul as he deepened the kiss.

Erik's hands roamed. He began to pull up her nightdress in great folds of silken material that were smooth and delicate against the skin of her back.

She sighed as the hem began to raise over her buttocks. He replaced the material with the palm of his hand, hot and slightly rough he pulled her towards him even more and groaned as she brushed up against his swollen bulge.

"Christine." He moaned into her neck as they took a moment to pause for breath.

She ached to be closer to him and feel him throbbing against her most intimate area.

Christine threw her thigh over his leg, hips thrusting towards him and relishing in the delicious torture of being so close.

His hand ran down the back of her thigh and caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up.

Erik smiled as he watched her eyes roll back when he entered her. He loved the way she quivered in his arms...it almost made him feel normal.

She pushed her leg further round him, trying to accommodate him between. She needed him more than ever tonight. The need to assure herself that it was him that she wanted was overwhelming and she soon began to lose control.

Before Erik knew what was happening, Christine was pushing him onto his back. Her thighs straddled him and pinned him in place.

"Chri..." She silenced him by raising her hips up and then lowering herself back down onto him. A flurry of giggles burst from her lips as his eyes opened as far as humanly possible.

She batted his hands away several times in the knowledge that he would so be in control if she let him get a grip on her.

Her pace was mind-numbingly slow at first, her hips rolled on his as she enjoyed the power being on top gave her.

"Please." He begged, aching for release.

Eventually she succumb to his pleading and began to pump faster than before, pulling him closer and closer to the perfect oblivion that her body offered her.

He knew it was soon be over and he stretched his arms up as Christine began to fall apart herself, crying his name. His hand slid under the pillow behind his hand and just as she brought about his orgasm, his long bony fingers closed around a piece of crumpled paper.


	4. Chapter 4

Christine's heart turned to stone when her gaze passed from his glistening, hairy chest to what he was holding in his hand. Raoul's letter was crushed between his fingers as he stared in disbelief at it.

Moments of silence passed as neither of them dared to move or breathe.

Erik broke the tension by releasing a harsh growl of anger before pushing her off of him, rising swiftly from the bed. He was still naked as he stood in front of her.

"What is this?" He snapped at her, shaking the letter in front of her face.

"I tried to tell you..."

"Tried to tell me what? That you and your lovely young man have been in contact? That he promises to come and save you when he can? That you have been _acting as though you loved me for all this time."_ Rage crackled from him and Christine shrank further into the bed, desperately trying to cover herself.

"No! Raoul misunderstood."

"**HOW DARE YOU MENTION HIS NAME IN FRONT OF ME! I AM YOUR ANGEL OF MUSIC AND I CAN TAKE AWAY EVERYTHING I HAVE GIVEN YOU.**" Erik had not raised his voice like this in such a long time that Christine reverted back to the state she was in when she pulled off his mask.

He stopped to pant, eyes boring into her as if she was the prize of a week long hunt.

Christine was paralysed with fear as he leaned over her, kneeling on the bed and leaving his face inches away from hers.

"You are mine." His tone was cold as he went to pull away from her but she summoned up all her courage and placed a hand on his arm.

His head snapped to the side to look at her hand. He tried to shrug it off but she persisted.

"Please, Erik."

"You made me _think _that you loved me." His voice was acidic, the expression on his face was a thousand times worse than his deformity.

"I do love you."

"Well _he _doesn't seem to think so." He shook the letter again and she made the brave move to try and pull him down into a kiss but he still resisted.

"Why did you hide it from me? If there is nothing in this then why did you let me come to you like some kind of pathetic child while you hid this from me!"

"Erik, I was worried that it would upset you."

"Upset me? I'm furious with you...and with Madame Giry. How could that _bitch_ think that it's acceptable to bring letters from my wife's former..." Erik stopped there, realising what he had said.

"My wife." He repeated, eyes scanning her face for a reaction. "That's it. If I marry you then you will have no doubt about where your allegiances lie...and neither will he."

Christine had no idea what to say. Of course she wanted to marry Erik but she did not want to marry him for the wrong reasons.

"Come. There is work that must be done in preparation. I know a delightful little church in Perros that might serve our purposes."

Perros was the small town where she had first met Raoul as a young girl and it was where she had ran to visit her father's grave after the tumultuous events following her debut at the Opera Populaire.

"Erik! Wait..." He was attempting to pull her from the bed by her wrist. "Should we not seal our engagement with a kiss?"

Christine needed more time to think. She knew in her heart of hearts that it was Erik she wanted to be with but surely while there were still doubts in her mind she should not be marrying him.

Surprisingly, Erik smiles and leans in. Their lips lock and he draws Christine's breath from her lungs.

She expected him to pull away again after a little while so she was a little taken aback when he gripped her wrists in each of his hands and pinned them slightly above her head.

Her body responded instantly. She knew Erik was still angry with her but she couldn't help wanting him.

His strong arms flexed either side of her head, his bit her lip gently to assert his dominance before pulling his head away from her mouth so he could start kissing and grazing his teeth on her neck.

Christine cried out as he sank his teeth deeper into her neck before sucking on the flesh there. He was marking her as his own for all the world to see.

"Erik.."

"Christine?"

"Be gentle."

"No." He laughed.

Another twinge from her body. As much as she didn't want to admit it, Christine loved it when he was like this. It was something that was entirely Erik's. Raoul had only ever behaved as though he was a tentative young boy who was losing his virginity for the first time.

"_Stop it_." She thought to herself. "_You must stop comparing them."_

Erik thrust his hips down quickly, his cock was swelling again and she was grateful that their were no pesky clothes between them.

His tight grip on her wrists loosened and he eventually let go as he ran them down her body, cupping a breast and and rolling his rough thumb around a hardened nipple.

She bent her head down slightly, hoping he'd take the hint and kiss her again but he moved further away, kissing down the rounded mound of her breast before wrapping his lips around the nipple adjacent to the one receiving attention from his thumb.

Christine went to sit up but found that his hand quickly left her chest and pushed her shoulder back down onto the bed. The Phantom was in control now.

Erik lashed at the aroused area with his tongue, feeling the small folds and creases of her skin.

He looked up to her, their eyes locked and he burned her with the heat of her eyes. She remained staring into them until he broke it, his attention turned to the sensitive underside of her breast which he delicately nipped.

Christine groaned as he kissed his way down her torso, tongue stopping briefly to dip into her naval. Something she found oddly arousing.

Her breath caught in her throat as she realised what Erik's final destination was going to be. He had done it to her a few times before and she knew that it was something that could easily drive her over the edge very quickly.

Erik looked up again and saw her biting her lip in anticipation, he felt arousal flush through his own body as her heart rate increased rapidly. Christine needed him and that was a fact that he was very well aware of.

His tongue flicked out, brushing past her lightly. Her hips sprang forward in a wild and desperate buck. He smiled to himself before leaning down and touching his lips to her.

She cried out as his tongue danced across her pulsating nub with the grace of a ballerina. He resisted the urge to plunge his fingers into her, knowing that it would be over far too quickly if he did.

Christine could have easily fallen into his sweet intoxication as he tasted her like the forbidden fruit of Eden. She moaned and placed her hand delicately on the back of his head.

He sucked the tiny nib into his mouth and kept it there until he was sure that she was going to find the release that she craved with only a few seconds more. That's when he released and pulled his head away.

"Erik?" She blurted out, sitting up slightly so she could see what had caused the interruption.

"Good night." He stood in front of her, his cock aching for the entrance between her legs.

"But..."

"Do you want me?"

"I always want you." Her voice was still quavering with desire.

"Then perhaps tonight will serve as a reminder of that." He turned from her and shook his head as the final refusal of her protests.

Once the door to her bedroom was closed he leant heavily against it. He hated himself for leaving her in such a state but he knew that if she didn't know who she wanted then she would never agree to marry him and he would never force her. Erik cursed the erection that had come about as a consequence of his plan and he moved swiftly down the corridor to his own room.

It was empty and cold inside. He sank down on the side of his bed and almost cried out as he wrapped his hand around his own burning flesh.

His eyes shut, he began to think about Christine. About all the little things she did while he was making love to her that drove him wild. He thought of the way she called his name as he brought her intense pleasure. The image of her eyes which bore into him when they came together made his hand increase the tempo.

His feet pushed down into the floor and his free hand grabbed large swathes of the bedding material as he reached the climax he had longed for. He was so close to shouting her name but he swallowed it back. The release felt empty without her but it would satisfy him for now.

He cleaned himself off in the bathroom before returning to bed, in the knowledge that he would not have to keep up this pretence of being angry with Christine for long.


	5. Chapter 5

Christine was laying on her bed, legs still slightly apart as she stared up at the ceiling in disbelief.

_"How could he?" _She had never known a man that was capable of getting up and leaving in the middle of such an intense...moment.

She finally summoned up the strength to turn on her side and reach under the pillow. The letter was gone. She should have expected as much and knew that it was probably curled up in flakes of ash in Erik's fireplace.

Her heart told her to go to him, to beg for forgiveness and hope that he would welcome her into his bed but she knew that it was a bad idea when he was in this foul a mood.

Christine cursed the letter, its deliverer and its sender. Together they had ruined the oasis of comfort and happiness she had created with Erik. How dare they treat her as if she was some damsel in distress that needed rescuing from a fire breathing dragon.

Without him, she felt coldness seeping into the room and shivered slightly. Even though he had dragged her from the gates of heaven she still yearned for him. She yearned for his strong arms and gentle touch, his hot breath on her neck and the feeling his hips brushing against hers.

"_Stop it, Christine. It's not ladylike to think about making love so__ often_." She knew fighting it was in vain. When you had had a man such as Erik, your every thought seems to stray back to them.

She did her best to cover herself with the blankets without bothering to pick up the nightdress that Erik had thrown on the floor.

Her mind cast back to the night she had struggled to sleep. It was the anniversary of her father's death and Christine was racked with guilt for having not visited her father's grave for the first time since his death. Erik had held her close to him and quietly whispered sweet nothings and happy promises in her ear until she had drifted off to sleep.

A tear rolled down Christine's cheek. Did he really believe that she had only been acting for all this time? She loved him. She knew that she could never love another as she had loved him and yet he believed that her love was nothing more than pretence.

She let out an audible sob, not caring if he heard her or not. Maybe he would know how much she truly loved him if he could hear her crying.

Crying alone in bed reminded Christine of the many nights she had spent as a young ballet dancer, somewhere overhead in the dormitories. Christine's beauty and talent had made her an object of jealousy with the other girls and they would often tease her, pulling her hair or forcing her to trip and rip her tights.

* * *

Christine's eyes burned with the tears of the night before as she walked hesitantly to the kitchen. Thus far, there was no sign of Erik's presence but she was sure that he'd appear at any moment to continue his rage from the night before.

She decided to find some breakfast before that happened. She hadn't eaten since the few mouthfuls of the disgusting slop she had made and she was starving. She craved the freshly baked croissants and hot coffee that were readily available when you lived a normal life but being with Erik meant that she had to settle for slightly stale bread and water from the lake that had been boiled to purify it.

Christine checked the face of the small watch she had been given for the seventeenth birthday. She had found it wrapped around it's own velvet cushion on her dresser. It was accompanied by a rose and a card that had told her that her angel wished her the happiest of birthdays.

She let herself sink further into the memory before she was surprised by a black shape blocking the reflection of a candle in shining face.

"Good morning." His voice was low and measured.

She stood quickly and turned to face him but was caught off guard by his dismissive hand gesture.

"If you would like to talk about last night then I can assure you that there is no need." He indicated for her to sit again, she obeyed. "My jealousy of the _boy _was completely unjust. I am sure you are being truthful with me and it is _he _who has gotten the wrong end of the stick." Every time Erik referred to Raoul he made a face as though he was a great snake, spitting poisonous venom.

"Erik..." She was halted by another hand gesture that begged her silence.

"And if it is true that you and...still have some kind of romantic connection then it does not matter anyway."

She knew not to speak so indicated her question with furrowed brows.

"Soon we will be journeying far away from here. Away from _him, _away from the Opera Populaire and -best of all- away from this dark, dingy lair!" He threw his arms up with the last point and let out a short laugh.

"Does that not please you, Christine?"

"Where will we go?"

"I have a friend in Persia. I am sure he'd welcome us into his home."

"Persia?!" Christine erupted.

"Yes, Persia." Erik replied coolly.

"Erik, you cannot be serious. That is a lifetime away from anywhere I have ever known!" Christine stood to her full height but found herself staring directly into his chest.

"Now, now, Christine. I'm sure you will get used to it after a while. Although...you may want cover up this delicate skin of yours. We can't have you burnt to a crisp." Erik gently brushed her exposed upper arm with the tips of his fingers and she felt a thrilling jolt of excitement shoot through her.

She found herself reaching up towards him, intent on pulling his head down to hers.

"So, you are happy to go?" He murmured softly.

Christine snapped out of his bewitching spell and sharply pulled her hand away.

"Do I have a choice?" She snapped, meeting his gaze.

"No."

Christine felt like screaming. She had moved from her native Sweden to France when she was young but that seemed like moving from one town to another compared to what Erik was asking her to do.

"Why does it have to be so far?"

"Because otherwise we'll never be left alone. Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?"

"How could you ask that? Of course."

"Then this is what we must do to escape. I know it seems like I'm asking a lot of you but it really is for your benefit above my own."

She sat down heavily in the chair. Christine felt anxious, the weight of Erik's new bright idea was crushing down on her. She had grown to love Paris, learned to call it home and had made some friends here. All of that was now going to be left behind for the next adventure with her dark angel.

He seemed to understand that she needed time to think it through and didn't speak again until she asked him a question.

"When do we leave?"

Erik's spirits seemed to lift with her apparent compliance.

"As soon as I can get my man to make our travel arrangements. Come with me." He strode to the doorway and Christine stood to follow him, still hungry.

When she entered his study she could see how animated he was. His face was aglow with determination and excitement for new adventures. From what he had told Christine, she understood that he loved to travel and see the world and she wondered what it had been like for him to be stuck underground for so many years.

"...give my mother her due, she did at least register my birth with the proper authorities. The certificate should be somewhere...ah! Here it is." He pulled out what looked like a rather worn piece of paper from a stack. She moved in for a closer look.

"Oh, so _that's _my birthday." She leant over to take a look but he pulled it quickly from her sight, he never wanted anyone to celebrate the birth of such a deformed creature.

Christine took a step back as he dropped to his knees and began to search for something under the table.

"Obviously..." His speech was broken by a grunt as he tugged on something that appeared to be stuck under there. "We will need...your...identification papers."

Christine's heart sank as he looked up at her.

"Christine? What's wrong? Please tell me that you have not lost them."

"They're not lost, Erik." Christine knew exactly where they were.

"Ah! No reason to worry then." There was a forced quality to his voice. He smiled uncertainly to her but she looked down at her shoes and shook her head softly, curls dragging across her shoulders.

"Everything is in Ra- The Vicomte's home."

Erik slowly got to his feet.

"Where in his home?" She could see that Erik's jaw was clenched. A clear sign that the anger was beginning to bubble up underneath.

"I don't-"

"Christine."

"In his bedside cabinet!" She burst into tears and began to shake.

"And why, if I may ask, are _your_ documents in _his _bedside cabinet?"

"It was just after you..you..."

"Murdered Buquet?" Erik did not shy away from the cold, hard truth.

"Yes. I was so frightened, so very frightened. He thought that we should run away."

"From me?"

She nodded.

His heart skipped a beat when he realised how much fear he had caused. It was never his wish that Christine would come to any harm but it seemed that his actions had left some psychological damage on his poor angel.

"Oh, Christine." He reached out and pulled her into his arms, allowing her tears to fall on his crisp, white shirt.

"I'm so sorry." She wept. "I should never have feared you. I know that now."

"No. I did terrible things. I did them to frighten you, Christine. I wanted to manipulate you into being mine..."

She tried to deny it by shaking her head against his chest but he knew it was true. Guilt rode down on Erik like the driving hooves of a jet black horse. He had killed two men in his bid to win Christine when all it had done was drive her further away.

Christine's lips were soon pressed against his, she was almost standing on pointe in order to reach so it was only the lightest of brushes.

"We need those papers, Christine." He whispered as she pulled away.

"But how are we meant to get to them? They are in his bedchamber, Erik."

"My dear, you forget who you are talking to." He gave her an encouraging smile and another small kiss before placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Fetch your cloak...I think it's time for some fresh air."

* * *

Christine watched as he walked quickly across the road, his hat was tilted downwards and covered his mask. To any passer-by he was nothing but a man in a hurry to get home and out of this awful snow flurry.

His pace was not too quick as to arouse suspicion from any witnesses but not too slowly that he might be spotted from one of the upstairs windows. He grabbed hold of the railings and launched himself cleanly over the top, his cloak fluttered as he landed on the other side.

She expected him to continue his path towards the house but instead he turned to her, indicating that she should follow.

"How?" She mouthed to him, pointing at the full skirts of her gown.

Christine watched as he covered his mouth with a his leather gloved hand, stifling a laugh.

She crossed her arms in front of her and he raised his hand as a signal to wait before disappearing into the undergrowth.

He emerged shortly after at a position further along the fence, right next to the gate. He walked confidently towards it and opened it before beckoning her over the road.

She checked for oncoming carriages before running to him.

"Erik! What if we had been caught?"

"Act like you're meant to be there and no one will suspect a thing."

Christine felt like smacking him for taking the risk but instead turned her attention to the imposing building behind him.

"How are we going to get in?"

"I'll find my own way. You are going to walk straight up to the front door and ask to pay a visit to the Vicomte." He saw the change in her expression. "Don't worry, that floppy hair fool is not here and you will ask to wait for his return. When you are left unattended, you will slip out of whatever drawing room they have left you in and find your way to his bedroom. That's when you'll meet me."

"But my-our story has been all over the newspaper. Surely one of the staff will recognise my name and alert the authorities."

"Then use a pseudonym...call yourself The Countess von Frinklebottom."

"Erik..."

"Look, you will think of something. It's now or never, Christine. He'll be back soon."

Christine nodded her agreement and watched as he disappeared into the shrubbery.

Her heart began to pound and her knees were shaky as she began to walk up the path to Raoul's front door. She had done this a number of times but only ever on the arm of the Vicomte. Surely someone would recognise her?

"Yes?"

Thank God. Christine didn't recognise the man who opened the door.

"Ah, yes, good morning. I erm...have come to call on the Vicomte." Her voice was trembling with nerves.

"I'm afraid Monsieur le Vicomte is not here. If you will leave me your name..."

"May I wait for him? It is urgent and well...it's rather cold out here." She gave him her best smile and seemed to melt the ice around his heart a little.

"I- of course. Please, follow me."

He led the way into one of the smaller reception rooms, asked her to sit and then told her that he would inquire as to how long the Vicomte would be.

From her previous experience of this household, Christine understood that he would not be coming back any time soon.

"_Perfect."_

After a few minutes she stood and made her way to the door. She could sneak out of the room, up the main staircase and onto the upstairs landing before anyone had noticed. When they were left unattended by Raoul and senior members of staff, they spent most of the time downstairs playing cards in the servant's kitchen.

She cursed the heel that made a loud clacking sound with each step on the marble staircase.

When she reached the top, Christine removed her shoes and walked as lightly and as quickly as possible down the corridor.

A noise made her freeze and her heart shot into her mouth when she realised that it was coming in her direction. She looked wildly around her for somewhere to hide. The chest was too small, even for the petite frame. Her eyes finally settled on the heavy curtains that were held back with thick golden ropes.

She hurried to it and pushed it aside, forcing herself into the small gap between curtain and the icy window.

The curtain stank of dust and the scent was dangerously close to making Christine sneeze and reveal her location but fortunately, the maid was busy trying to hide a piece of silk under her uniform and did not notice Christine's presence.

Christine did not blame her, she knew how hard it was to live on a poor man's salary and that luxuries such as silk were impossible to come by.

When she was certain that the maid had made her way down the staircase, Christine pulled herself from her small hidey-hole. She tutted at the state of her dress, it was dusty and spotted with cobwebs. Obviously the staff never thought to clean behind there.

She reached Raoul's bedroom and checked both ways before turning the doorknob and stepping inside.

The room was empty. She had expected that Erik had reached the room a long time before her but he was nowhere to be found.

Christine sighed. This was his plan and yet he'd been the one to mess up somewhere.

She was just about to turn back to the door when the balcony doors opened and in stepped Erik, snow drifting in behind him.

Of course, the balcony. There were thick vines and crawled their way from the ground to Raoul's room and he must have climbed them.

"Are you going to start quoting Romeo and Juliet or shall I?" He joked, brushing the snow from his broad shoulders.

For any man, climbing those vines would be quite a challenge but he didn't seem to be bothered by it. Christine shuddered at the thought of his strong muscles.

"So, where are they?" He opened his palms and gestured to the room around them.

"Erm..." Christine managed to tear her eyes away from him for a moment before walking to the side of the bed Raoul had always slept on.

The bedside cabinet was made of solid mahogany and was unnecessarily ornate. A common theme in Raoul's life. She knelt down on the thick carpet and and placed a gloved hand on the underside of the handle.

She tugged but it did not budge.

"It's locked." She looked to Erik with panic in her eyes. "We did all this and it's locked."

Erik rolled his eyes.

"My dear, if I had ever let a lock stop me then I would not be the infamous Opera Ghost." He indicated her to move out of the way so he could take a closer look.

He crouched down next to her and peered into the lock. He sighed and removed a leather case from inside his cloak.

When he opened it and place it on the floor, Christine could see an array of lock picking instruments. All of them were long, metallic and thin but each one of them had its own unique head. He hovered over each of them before selecting one and bringing it up to the keyhole.

"Lock picking," he pushed it in slightly and gave it a twist. "Is like music. You have to hit all of the right notes and in the right order otherwise you end up with something that isn't right."

He shook his head and picked up another, pointy tipped instrument. Christine noticed how his cloak had slipped and uncovered his thighs which were large and muscular. She was impressed at how long he had remained crouching without using his hand to support himself.

A few more twists and turn and he was almost there. When he heard the click of the lock her turned around to smile at Christine and she felt her heart skip a beat.

"I'll let you do the honours." He pushed himself up onto his feet and she was immediately aware of where her head level was.

Christine tried to distract herself from Erik and his body by opening the draw and she was relieved to find her papers were still safely tucked away. She pulled them out and handed them to Erik.

"Are these what we need?"

He took them from her and began to inspect them. He angled them towards the light of the window and scanned for the most important information. He found Christine's birth certificate among them and began to read but was startled by something brushing along the front of his trousers.

He folded the paper in half and looked down to find Christine looking up at him, her fingers tracing the lines of his crotch.

He felt his blood coursing towards the area.

"_Chrissstine_." He hissed, pushing his hips towards her slightly. "Here?"

"Sorry." She whispered. "You're right...it would be wrong."

It was too late, the seed had already been planted in Erik's mind and he wanted it to grow and blossom.

She saw the lust burning in his eyes and felt him hardening beneath her hand. His passion infected her, taking over her mind and body until all she could think about was having him. Now.

Her hand curled underneath him, cupping him gently as her thumb rubbed in small circles. His hands began to shake as he lifted them to undo his trousers.

She smiled as he pushed them down his thighs, leaving them partially up so they could make a quick escape if necessary. Her hand slid inside his underwear and stroked his hot, soft skin.

He bit into his lip to stop himself from moaning. Last night he had imagined something like this while relieving himself but this was so much better.

Christine's pulse was deafening. Her hand wrapped around him as she slowly guided him out of the material confines and into the open. He gasped at the sensation of the cold air but she quickly negated this by sucking him into her mouth.

His hips inched forwards, pushing his cock further into her accommodating mouth. The sweet pleasure it gave him was enough to unravel the years of pain and suffering he had gone through as a child and a young man.

She rolled her tongue around him before pulling him back out and lavishing him with small butterfly kisses. He wanted to let her continue more than anything but the gentleman in him knew that his pleasure was not the most important thing for him to consider.

He took a step back and caught her hand as she went to reach for him again. He pulled her up gently to her feet before pushing her back onto the bed.

It rattled in protest but was quickly shushed by Erik, making Christine giggle softly.

He leaned over her and brushed a curl from her eyes, those beautiful eyes that were filled with nothing but adoration.

Erik tried his best to lift up her skirts and gain access to her but he found that it created a mountain of material in front of her face. It was no good. They would be unable to get near each other in this position.

"Erik..." Christine's intonation made it clear that she had a suggestion.

"Yes?"

"Perhaps if I were to turn over...my skirts would fall below me instead of almost suffocating me."

His cock twitched when he thought of taking her from behind.

"Excellent idea."

He helped her to her knees and placed his hands on her hips before spinning her around quickly. She fell onto all fours and waited for him to pull her underwear down.

He did so with one hand while the other kept him erect and ready for her.

His hand slid in between her legs and found her sweet spot, she moaned slightly as he rubbed it.

She was more than ready for him so he moved closer, pushing his head between her lips and finding her welcoming entrance.

Christine thought it felt different this way, Erik. hit places he had never hit before and she was soon pushing herself back towards him.

After the first few thrusts he removed his hand, placing one on each of her hips which allowed him to give more power.

"_Oh, Christine. I do love you so much._" He thought warmly as he watched her trying to look over her shoulder at him.

The way her dress swung underneath her was hypnotic, as was the bounce of her curly hair. He was dying to feel her orgasm around him so he sped up the pace. Christine started to pant and moan before her arms collapsed.

She let herself fall, he watched as her face rubbed against Raoul's pillow every time he pushed into her and it spurred him on. He wanted to make her scream into the boy's pillow.

And that's exactly what she did. He delved deeper and deeper into her until she screamed her pleasure into Raoul's pillow. The pillow suitably muffled it so there was no danger of them being caught but Erik knew that she had came.

He smiled before releasing into her, his seed spilling out slightly as he pulled away.

As they tidied themselves, Erik noticed something shining on Raoul's pillow. Christine had lost one of her hair pins and just as he was going to alert her to that fact, a better idea entered his head.

"_Leave it for the boy to find._" He grinned wickedly at the thought of a confused Raoul finding it in his bed.

"Shall we go?"

"After you, my dear."


	6. Chapter 6

"Good evening, Monsieur Le Vicomte."

"Good evening, Pierre."

Raoul gave his best attempt at a warm smile as he took off his top hat and took one last look at the clear night sky. He had been gone longer than he had hoped and now the stars were twinkling above him as everything turned to ice.

"I'm afraid you are back later than expected. I sent the cook home in the fear that she would get snowed in." Pierre took his hat and coat from him before turning to hang them on the spindly coat rack.

"That's quite alright, Pierre." Raoul replied happily. "I have already eaten." He was lying. Raoul hadn't eaten since he left early that morning and he was starving. However, without the cook there it would mean making bother for the ageing butler.

Pierre had worked for the de Chagny family since before the youngest brother was born. His own family was of some considerable wealth so he was well educated and had often sat with Raoul to help him with Latin or maths. Two of the young Raoul's least favourite subjects.

Recently, Raoul had noticed that Pierre had started coughing. It seemed like the cough had grown louder and more violent with each passing day. The Comte had expressed the concern of whether Pierre would be able to keep up his duties in the house. Ever the practical man was Philippe. Raoul had begged Pierre to see Raoul's physician but Pierre had refused.

"It is nothing. Just a winter's cough. It will pass soon enough." Pierre had dismissed Raoul's worries.

As Raoul began to climb the stairs, he was completely unaware that he would soon be kneeling beside Pierre's bed as he breathed his last breath, murmured his last prayer and closed his eyes for the last time.

"Oh! Monsieur le Vicomte!" Pierre called from the bottom of the staircase.

"Pierre, you know that after all this time you can call me Raoul."

He seemed flustered at the thought of using such an informal term of address so he decided to continue regardless.

"A young woman came to see you earlier. I asked her to wait but when I returned she had disappeared. Perhaps she remembered some appointment and could not wait to be shown out."

Raoul frowned in confusion. A young woman? He had not been courting anyone since...but it could not be. She was with that monster in that gloomy dungeon. No. It could not be Christine...and yet...he thought of the times she had taken herself up to his bedchamber in a bid to escape the constant watchful eye of the servants. Perhaps she was...

"Thank you, Pierre!" He shouted over his shoulder as he began to climb the stairs quickly, two at a time. In his rush he did not notice the pair of shoes that were waiting at the top of the staircase. He tripped and stumbled forward but managed to keep his balance by grabbing the banister.

Those shoes. He knew those shoes. Raoul had pulled them from her delicate feet enough times to had recognised them anywhere. His heart began to sing as he raced down the corridor. There was no way that Christine could have left the house without her shoes. Not in this weather.

Raoul almost wrenched the door handle from its socket as he threw the door open and stepped inside, a beaming smile stretched across his face. The smile sank slightly when he saw that the room was empty but then he noticed how cold it was because of the balcony doors being thrown wide open. Of course! How she loved to stand out there at night and watch the stars.

"Christine?" He called, not caring if the servants heard him.

No response. He moved slightly closer to the doorway and parted the billowing curtains. He panicked when he saw that it too was empty and rushed to the railing, peering down into the darkness.

There was just enough light coming from the house to see that there was no one below the balcony, injured or otherwise. Relief was his initial feeling but then he felt and overwhelming sense of disappointment. The shoes must have belonged to one of his sisters.

"Christine." He whispered into the darkness before turning back towards his room.

He undressed quickly and climbed into bed. The room was brittle with cold and he wished that he had his dear Christine with him to warm him up. He rolled his head over several times before it was spiked with something sharp.

"Ow!" He barked and threw his hand up to find the offending object.

He held it up to the dim, flickering light of the candle and almost gasped in shock when he saw what it was. It was one of _Christine's_ hairpins. This time there was no mistake. He had seen her wearing these on so many occasions and had plucked them out of her hair on the first night that they had made love.

So she had been here...but where was she now?

* * *

The carriage trundled through the dark streets of Paris. After they had been to the Vicomte's town house they had decided to visit Christine's father's grave while they had the opportunity. Of course, that was after they had stopped at the nearest shoe shop and convinced the driver to get out and purchase a replacement pair of shoes for Christine.

Erik had caught her from the balcony. She had dallied for several minutes before he had convinced her to trust him and jump. He caught her safely in his arms without so much as a grunt.

"Th-thank you." She had whispered breathlessly, her face inches away from him.

They had gone to lean in for a kiss but a noise from the house ruined the moment and forced Erik to run -Christine still in his grasp- down the path and to the awaiting carriage.

Now they were sitting next to each other, staring out of the windows at the passing Parisian streets.

"I can't believe I left my shoes." Christine broke the peaceful silence. "Hopefully they will be picked up by a servant and presume to belong to one of the Vicomte's sisters."

"That is the mostly likely outcome." Erik smiled and Christine seemed suitably reassured. "The hairpin on _his _pillow, however..." He could not help but let a smile pull the corners of his lips up.

Christine looked at him sharply.

"I noticed it before we left, one of your hairpins must of come loose while we were...er."

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

"You were busy rearranging your undergarments."

She heard a cough from the driver in front.

"Erik!"

He tried to cover his laugh poorly but her eyes were still staring wildly at him.

"He'll _know _we were there! She yelped, throwing her hand over her mouth.

"There's a small part of me that is curious as to why _he _would be able to identify your hairpin but it's such a lovely evening. I won't spoil it by working myself up into a temper."

She blushed violently and sat back in her seat.

"He...he helped me take them out one evening in my dressing room."

"Christine, the angel knows all. Remember?" Her blush deepened and she could not bring herself to meet Erik's gaze. "Anyway, that was all in the past and now there is just me and you." He grinned widely and reached for her hand. It was like ice.

He pulled the blanket across from the seat opposite them, moved closer to her and wrapped it around the two of them. He felt her relax instantly, sinking against his body and enjoying the warmth that radiated from it.

"I'm starting to get used to the idea of Persia. At least we could leave everything and _everyone _behind." Her head was now resting on his shoulder.

"Sweet Christine, I know you are pretending to make me happy. All you need to do to make me happy is to be happy yourself...that's why I've planned our journey to your native Sweden."

Christine's head shot up from his shoulder.

"Erik..."

"Of course I'm being serious." He smiled while reaching up to brush a curl away from her face.

She threw her arms around his neck and crashed her lips against his. What a relief it was to hear that they were not going to a land that was so far away that she could not imagine what it would be like even with the illustrations in the books Erik had given to her.

His began to trace up her bodice and over her breasts, lightly stroking the bared skin above her neckline. She sighed into his lips, wishing that they were somewhere private so they could get a little bit more intimate.

Erik didn't seem to care, his hands roamed all over her and gradually he began pulling her skirts up, inch by inch.

"Erik," she hissed. "There's no room!"

"There is enough for what I'm planning."

His hand began moving inside the bottom of her skirts, which were now at the level of her knees. He had removed his glove while she was kissing him so now the rough yet gentle skin of his hands was brushing against her inner thigh.

She began to tremble as he got higher and higher, finally finding the edges of her lace trimmed underwear. His hand pushed in, the tight underwear forced his hand against her and she let out a deep sigh.

He began to move his fingers, first concentrating on the top where her sensitive nub begged for his touch. Pressure soon started to build in her lower abdomen. Sensing this, Erik moved on. His hand reached further down to her entrance and gave it a testing rub.

Christine groaned and pushed her hips forward, demanding further action. He obeyed.

He pushed his middle finger inside her warm passage. It was shortly joined by a second and he waited until she had adjusted to his presence before drawing them out and pushing them back in again.

"Oj herregud!" It had been a long time that Erik had heard Christine speak Swedish and he smiled to himself.

His fingers started moving more rapidly, his thumb stretched up and pressed against her pip. She pushed herself against the back of her seat and bit her lip to stop herself from crying out.

Erik was throbbing, aching for her but he put it out of his mind. Right now it was all about Christine.

He knew she was close so he sped up a little more, pushing deeper than before and he watched as she rolled her eyes back in her head.

Erik kissed her to make sure she didn't scream when she tightened around him.

"Oh, God, God, God, God." She was whispering over and over again as he pulled his lips away from her.

When she had finally pulled herself back together, she immediately turned her attention to his need. Christine reached under the blanket and was just about to undo his trousers when the carriage came to a rolling stop.

"I believe this is our stop." Erik did well to hide his disappointment as they looked out the window to see the Opera Populaire looming over them.


End file.
